


Plaything

by hurluberlu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blue Eyes, Dehumanization, Eye Gouging, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Gyms, Humans are toys, M/M, No Smut, Roughhousing, Serial Killer Dean, Victim Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 04:44:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7560856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurluberlu/pseuds/hurluberlu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Keep your eyes open."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plaything

I don't exactly remember the small details. Not the date, or the month, or, hell, even the season. I just remember him. In the locker room. Just me and him.

I don't remember what made me actually walk up to him. Offer him a sip of my water bottle, or an extra towel I had stashed in my locker. 

I'd like to say it was his eyes. They were so... _brilliantly_ blue. They seemed to call to me. I longed to taste a bit of the innocence trapped within them. I longed to taint it.

He refused the water. Politely of course. Innocent, but not naïve. I smiled back at him, polite as well. You mustn't make your prey suspicious.

I left it at that. Let him refuse the water, and the towel. And I lay in wait.

A few days passed. I know this because I can remember several sleepless nights spent looking through albums filled with polaroid shots of victims-past. My head pounds when it's been too long between them. Looking at the memories helps, but only for a minimal span of time.

I always made sure to spread the 'random encounters' out over weeks, even months. To escape detection. To make the prey more willing to accept that it was left up to fate. And always different locations too. The gym was always included. I enjoy the fit ones, they bring a bit of a challenge. And I enjoy being fit myself. Then a café, or a restaurant. But the first time I never interact with them, just watch. Learn their mannerisms. Learn to mimic the prey.

The second time at the cafés, or restaurants respectively, I order the meal they ate last. Sparks up a conversation. They walk past my table on the way out, as I position myself always at the main exit. Gives them no way to escape.

'Is that the cobb salad with shrimp and avocado? I thought I was the only one who ordered it like that! Hey, don't I know you from somewhere? The gym, right? I'm actually heading there now, I could sit with you until you're done and we could go together! I mean, if you're free.'

Always something along those lines. No matter the gender. They always invite you to workout with them. To prove their superiority, and to determine whether you fit into their liking. This is always hard. You must learn to read your opponent. Are they a strong woman, looking for an equal? A weak man, searching for a stronger man to care for them? Or an alpha-woman looking for an inferior to make them feel 'special' compared to the weak majority of their gender.

This blue-eyed man was different. I didn't wait weeks to see him. I remember clearly, it was only two days. And I didn't observe him. I couldn't stay away. I went back to the gym. I never go back to the gym right away. I always split the gym visits between the cafés. The cafés or the damn restaurants.

From the beginning I knew it was wrong. I shouldn't pursue this. Not him. But they called to me. His eyes. The innocence. I bribed a jock to keep guard on the locker room door. Not to let anyone in. I'll let your imagination tell you how he was bribed.

The water again. He denied, the pink hue arising on his perfectly golden cheeks wtih no hesitation. This didn't happen before. Or maybe it did. I wasn't observing. I was fixated. Just on his eyes. My own eyes watched as he turned away from me. To his own locker. Grabbing his own water bottle. I watched his lips purse on the spout, smiling as his eyes closed.

"What, is my water not good enough for you?"

The tone of my voice. Playful. Charismatic. As it should be. That's what they like. But normally, it's an act. But it wasn't to him.

He lowered the bottle. Snapped the lid closed. A small laugh.

"No, I'm sure it's fine. You can never be too careful is all."

He looked me up and down. Observing. As I should have been doing. But I was just fixated.

"But hey, weren't you here a few days ago?"

I nodded. I couldn't break eye contact. Couldn't make my lips form words.

"I thought so! My name's Cas by the way. Did you want to come grab a smoothie with me? The ones they sell upstairs are _incredible_!"

Maybe he _was_ naïve. He didn't suspect anything. Even after a less-than-acceptable time in between meetings.

"Dean. And only if it's my treat."

Bright smile. Show your teeth. You maintain your body well, shows them that you care about yourself. And you are capable of responsibility.

The rosy hue returned. But he will accept. Despite my damn mind turning against me, acting so ridiculously, failure was not allowed to happen.

"O-Oh but you really don't ne-"

"-Nonsense. I insist."

Look into their eyes. Radiate sincerity. They will always accept.

He stood silent. Just a moment. He cleared his throat.

"Do you need to change?"

I looked down to my sweat-soaked shorts. Look back up at them. Insidious smirk. Let your true self seep through. They'll see it as a joke.

"Why, would you like to watch?"

Then. A flash. So sudden. So fast. A darkness. Behind the bright blue sparkle. The innocence, gone, replaced with desire. For a moment only, a brief moment.

"N-No! I-I just wanted to know. Maybe you could, I don't know, put on a shirt? Or something?"

I smiled. Reached out my hand. Grabbed the hem of his shirt. Currently covered, but not for long.

But it was moving too fast. My veins pumped the insidious, venomous adrenaline, the want, the _need_ throughout my body.

"Or maybe you just need to take yours off-" His eyes widened. They managed to block the darkness, somehow. "-I mean, this _is_ a gym, isn't it? What's the point of perfecting your body if you're not going to show it?"

Frozen. He remained frozen as my hands, steadily, brought the fabric up. He didn't resist. He never resisted.

The fabric bunched under his arms. They stayed firm at his sides. Maintain eye contact. Run your hands up his torso. Feel him shudder. Use this moment, this brief moment of vulnerability to push his arms above his head. Push up the shirt. Slip off the shirt. Throw the shirt out of reach. Maintain eye contact.

That's how it should have went. The damn need, it coursed through me. Like nothing I've ever experienced. The innocence peaked my curiosity. The sparkling blue. The darkness trapped me. I saw it once. I made it my goal to bring it out. I wanted to taint him. But he's already tainted. I must feed that. Make it take him over. As it's already done to me.

I was sloppy. My emotions, none I thought had existed, they spilled out.

A crash. His back pushed against closed lockers.

A rip. The cheap hem of his shorts. Torn apart stitch by stitch. The defeated fabric fell to the ground. A pitiful flag of surrender.

A gasp. Loud, but still silent all the same. Barely audible. But it pounded through my ears.

The darkness. Returned. Still shielding behind the wall of light.

His eyes looked deep into mine. Perhaps searching for light behind my darkness. A useless effort.

He didn't resist. His lips parted. Innocently. But mine parted as well. 

Timid. The only way I would describe his lips as they leaned forward. His eyelids started to droop. Unacceptable.

My forearm against his neck. He struggled to breathe. His eyes flying open. Tears spilling.

The act was over. I'm not charismatic. Not playful. Demanding. He will obey me. He is only a plaything.

"Keep your eyes open."

He nodded. Fearful. But not of his life. A part of him had already given himself to me. No, he wasn't afraid for his life. He didn't want to disappoint.

This is the part that should happen at my home. In my room. When they've given up on everything. I take a blade, a new blade for every new person. I plunge it through their heart. I dispose of the prey, the plaything, usually by dismemberment. No one ever knows. I was up to fifty-three. He will be fifty-four.

But this wasn't my home. And this wasn't the normal plaything. But all I cared about were those eyes.

An interruption. A yell. A shout. All of the same thing. "Federal Agents, move from the door!"

I panicked. That's the part that's still a blur.

All I can remember is the warmth. The red that covered my hands. The small, delicate orbs of blue covered in red as I plunged my fingers into his sockets and ripped his eyes from his head.

They were filled with darkness.


End file.
